What is it like to lose a child? I’ll use the word God used, “rhomphaia”.
There were two thoughts that ran through my head after the EMT’s took Tristan’s lifeless body away. Todd put his arms around our family and cried out in prayer as we huddled on our living room rug. I don’t remember what he prayed but I know what I prayed. It was the only thing I could muster the strength to say, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
Christ’s words spilled out of my mouth because I had been lying in my bed praying for my boy through the night as he was out in our garage ending his life. Then a second phrase cut through the shock, it engulfed my brain like it was home: “A sword shall pierce your soul”. It would take five years before God finished showing me why He brought that verse to mind.
“Rhomphaia”
God knows exactly what it’s like to lose a child, not just because He’s omniscient, but because He gave us the wording for it. And I don’t know why I never saw it before.
In Luke 2:25, Mary and Joseph bring Jesus as a newborn infant to the temple, Simeon pronounces a blessing upon Jesus, but within the blessing is an ominous warning, “A sword shall pierce your soul.” Simeon is talking to a mother who is going to lose a child. And what will that feel like? God’s about to color in the lines for us.
The word here for sword, rhomphaia, is only used two times in the New Testament. It’s not the common sword that a Roman soldier carried. This sword had a reputation. The Thracians designed it to be the most powerful weapon in existence, able to cut through anything in its path. Its single-edged blade was over 30 inches long, the handle was close to 20 inches, large enough for gripping with two hands. It was so deadly the Roman army had to remodel their helmets with extra iron bars just to counter its fearsome blow.
This four foot weapon was the sword waiting for Mary. Not the everyday swords she saw all around her on any given day. Simeon picked a precise word. A rhomphaia would pierce her soul. To pierce, “dieleusetai”, means to traverse, from one end to the other. No part of her soul would be untouched.
Does God describe what it feels like to lose our child? I believe He does: a traversing of our entire soul by a weapon designed to annihilate.
“Rhomphaia” is only used twice in the whole NT. In Luke, it means a single-edged, deadly weapon, but how is it used in its second appearance?
When Jesus comes back in Revelation 1:16; Revelation 2:12, He is described by having a rhomphaia coming out of His mouth. This rhomphaia is different from ours in one significant way. Christ’s sword is a two-edged sword. The rhomphaia’s original design was a single edge, but in Christ’s possession, it takes on a whole other level of destruction.
Whatever single-edged rhomphaia took out your child, from the curse of this earth, Jesus is coming again to put all things right with a two-edged sword of His own. All the evil things will become untrue: pain, injury, sickness, mental illness, all undone. There is no weapon that can stand against the Creator of the universe. He wins. And in the end, the single-edged sword that is piercing our soul through this life will be taken away by Christ’s double-edged sword, and replaced with Home. With our children. Forever.
What are we supposed to do with our sorrow until then?
Jesus isn’t only a warrior, He is also our sympathetic high priest who can meet with us in our sorrow. He doesn’t just know what it feels like, He’s lived through it and carried this sorrow, Himself.
Hebrews 4:14 Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. 15 For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. 16 Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.
As we live with our sorrow, He asks us to do three things: hold fast, draw near, and receive. That’s it. As grieving parents that’s all we need to do as we cling to Him. Hold fast, draw near, and receive mercy and grace. In His humanity, Christ made it through this sorrow, and He’ll make sure we make it through ours. Christ said, “I am sorrowful unto death”. He was sad enough to die from it. He gets grief. And He knows exactly how to minister to us in ours. He asks us to draw near so He can.
The Whys
Searching for answers tends to fade to the background when you are doing those three things, holding fast, drawing near, and receiving. Did you ever notice in the book of Job that when God finally speaks to Job, He doesn’t give Job any explanation for all that he lost? God doesn’t explain or defend Himself. Instead, He gives Job one-hundred-and-twenty-five verses of Who. We don’t know why God allowed our particular sorrow and we never will, as summed up in Proverbs 20:24 –
“A man’s steps are ordained by the Lord; How then can a person understand his way?”
We will never understand this sorrow-brimmed life on earth. While our family was huddled on our living room rug, crying out desperate prayers as the ambulance drove away with our boy, God was at work even then. He was saturating my mind with His Truth that would keep me clinging to Him for the next five years until He gently taught me about rhomphaia. We may never know the why, but we know the Who, and we are in His good hands.
Dear Lord, I wish we were back in the Garden of Eden, the way it was meant to be, with no rhomphaias invented for this evil, cursed earth. I can’t wait for the day you make all things right and new. New. My boy, new, like he was as a newborn, all shiny and new but more Tristan than I can ever imagine. Oh, how I miss his curls and long slender fingers, and the innocence in his eyes before they went dark. I bet they are shining now! Thank you for light and life and one day coming back for us to be with You forever. Kiss my boy for me, tell him I love him and can’t wait to see him. Save me from myself. In Jesus name, amen.
